


Dwells

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 20:58:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10704969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Like when they were children, Boromir comforts Faramir after a difficult dream.





	Dwells

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Short thing for this week’s [silmread chapter](http://silmread.tumblr.com/post/159642995475/22-the-council-of-elrond), where Boromir mentions the prophetic dreams he shared with Faramir before leaving Gondor.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Lord of the Rings or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He rests without dreaming, just on the edge of consciousness, and when he hears the door creak open, his eyes follow. Because of the pattern formed in recent nights, he doesn’t leap for his sword. Sure enough, the candlelit figure that forms in his doorway is familiar. As his door’s shut again, Boromir yawns and rolls to face his little brother.

Faramir creeps quietly closer, as though half expecting to be caught and expelled at any moment. He would be scolded, naturally, if their father ever learned of these clandestine visits, but no one could force him from Boromir’s quarters save Boromir himself. And Boromir always welcomes Faramir in, even when he brings disturbing tales that make their father’s scathing disapproval triple. Boromir, at least, doesn’t blame his brother for the troubled tidings he brings. 

When Faramir’s reached the side of the bed, he murmurs, “I had the dream again.” There’s no need to specify which. Boromir stifles another yawn and reaches out to take his brother’s wrist, tugging him forward by it. Faramir sets the candle on the nightstand and allows himself to be pulled across the covers. He settles onto the other side, taking the second pillow that’s been there for him since childhood, though he hasn’t suffered such nightmares to need it in years, at least, not until a few weeks ago. 

He squirms as Boromir dutifully adjusts the covers about him. Boromir finishes by drawing the blankets up to his shoulder, then gives it a comforting squeeze. Faramir only frowns, then whispers, “I must ride to Imladris.”

“Hush,” Boromir automatically replies. All he wants is to _sleep_ , but Faramir must be well for him to do so, and the thought of his little brother riding north is too sobering. A part of Boromir wishes they’d never pried what little answers from their father that they did; he would’ve preferred to have no idea what Imladris was and have no hope of wasting time and energy hunting other riddles. Now Faramir looks serious, undeterred by Boromir’s scolding. Boromir waits a moment, hoping the stubbornness will dissipate, but it doesn’t; despite their father’s constant disparagement of him, Faramir can stand as strong as Boromir. Though he’d meant to save the news until morning, Boromir shares, “ _I_ will ride, if ride we must.”

Eyes going a little wide around the edges, Faramir jumps to say, “No—”

But Boromir says right over him, “You cannot expect me to allow you to face such perils.”

“And I would not have you face them either. Boromir, this is my burden—”

“I’ve had the dream too,” Boromir reminds him, if only once, and fleeting, and it seemed so much less than the vivid images Faramir described. Faramir looks pained by the mere suggestion, and Boromir abruptly rolls over and leans to the nightstand to blow the candle out. He doesn’t want to see the worry on Faramir’s face anymore. The darkness swoops back in, marred only by the pale glow of starlight that presses against his curtains. He can still see Faramir’s faint silhouette, and he can feel the warmth and weight next to him under the covers. He feels around until he’s found Faramir’s hand, and he wraps his fingers tightly around it, holding on. “I have more experience than you. I will be faster, and I can better represent our father. It will become official business, and he will send me with more.”

“But Gondor needs you,” Faramir presses, clearly genuinely concerned.

Boromir parries back, “It needs you just as fiercely. I must be the one to go, and I’ll sleep better for it, knowing you’re safe.”

For a moment, Faramir is quiet, and Boromir can feel him shaking his head against his pillow. Then Faramir snorts bitterly, “It’s hardly safe here any longer.”

“And I fear it will be less so if I do not pursue this. I’ll ride soon.”

Faramir sighs. Boromir knows he wants to put up more of a fight, but he wisely concedes, “I know how difficult it is to change your mind once it is made. I realize I cannot stop you. ...But all the same, I do not like this.”

“You do not have to,” Boromir counters, “Only obey your future steward, as the good younger brother you are.”

Even through the thick darkness, Boromir can see Faramir’s soft smile. He has been good, far better than Denethor ever gives him credit for, since the day he was born. Boromir’s never once regretted welcoming him in and comforting him, and despite Faramir’s nervous words, he does _feel_ calmer—most of the tension has seeped out of his form. He lies quietly at Boromir’s side, no longer taut with stress, but the sort of contemplated warmth that comes before a parting. In that context, Boromir leans forward to place a tender kiss against Faramir’s forehead in the custom of their people.

As he adjusts the blankets around Faramir’s shoulders one more time, he says, “Now sleep, little brother, and have no more dreams from far away.”

Faramir nods, like he has every intention of listening. Boromir allows his own eyes to close, and soon enough, he slips off again, comforted himself by the support that lies beside him.


End file.
